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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887243">In love and in war</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulquii/pseuds/Ulqueleh'>Ulqueleh (Ulquii)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love and War [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dancing, Duke Shiro (Voltron), Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, Galran Culture (Voltron), Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Marmoran Culture (Voltron), Noble Keith (Voltron), Period-Typical Homophobia, Prince Lotor (Voltron) - Freeform, Princess Allura (Voltron), Slow Dancing, or well</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:20:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulquii/pseuds/Ulqueleh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants something true. Something authentic. Something he can actually feel when he closes his eyes and his heart beats.  </p><p>Something he prefers to feel in the dark. Under the stars. With whispers of love and laughs in secret.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love and War [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In love and in war</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hewwo!</p><p>Here I am, posting up yet another long-fic I'll be leaving on hiatus for an indeterminated time because life sucks and I'm sorry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sky had darkened when Shiro was able to get out of the ballroom unnoticed. He didn’t have the opportunity before, having the obligation to go and make conversation with each one of the party assistants, most of them having too much to say to him or about him. Shiro doesn’t understand how his grandfather achieved to maintain his composure for so long —at home, he was always venting out with Shiro about how incredibly tiring it was to deal with the bourgeoisie and the obligation of always being inside of what was considered ‘right’. When Shiro got to age, it was when he experienced it on the first hand. And though the exhaustion of socializing was oppressive, watching his grandpa being so proper and collected in front of other people was even more.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He knew his grandpa would reproach him for escaping in that moment, but he had much more experience in the art of the bourgeoisie than Shiro. Years and more years of try and failure, of polishing the ability until being as shiny and reflective as a clean armor. Shiro could only yearn becoming like him in the future, when he raised to be the head of the family as a duke, but there was still a year to go for Shiro to be 18, and for his grandfather to die, as he demonstrated with every occurrence and audacity that would make his grandma get out of her grave and hit him in the back of his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The stars shone more subtle in the lands of Duke Sendak, the lights coming from the ballroom, the candles in the exterior and from the town itself overshadowing them in an unfortunate way. It was what Shiro liked from his family land, the lack of exuberance and pretentiousness in material objects, while the rest tried to imitate poorly the wealth the His Majesty, King Alphor —his faraway uncle, but Shiro wasn’t as in contact with him to call him that— possessed. That humility was what made the sky above it to brighten up with its own light when the sun set. That the woods around the farmlands still sheltered all types of animals, filling with their sounds the silence that the night left, when in daylight it was so quiet because of the inevitable noise of cultivate and harvest.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The silence on Sendak’s mansion, on the other hand, was overwhelming, and Shiro is grateful the music from the ballroom can be heard from the yard, fainter and more charming than when it’s muted below chatter, pretentious laughs and the steps from the brave-enough assistants dancing in the center of the room. Strangely, Shiro have a sudden impulsivity to dance in that moment, although he had to reluctantly accept the invitation to dance with some of the daughters of his grandpa’s acquaintances. Supposedly, it was Shiro who should have gone and extend the invitation, but he wasn’t as interested as he should.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a sigh and leaned over the stone railing, slightly swaying on his feet and closing his eyes to listen to the music more clearly. It was a shame, really, how much he had to endure just to avoid problems with the rest of the bourgeoisie. Keeping appearances was something Shiro was supposedly used to, but sometimes it was just plain boring. This party could have been a little different if his cousin, Princess Allura —who he actually calls cousin because, even when they weren’t directly related by blood, he had grown up playing with her every Sunday after the morning mass until dinner—, would’ve been present.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>But the duties of a kingdom were heavier than the boredom in Shiro.
  
</span></p><p>
  <span>Shiro stilled when he heard movement beside him, opening his eyes to try and search in the dim light. Nonetheless, it wasn’t until the sound —a simple slide of shoes against the floor stone— repeated itself nearer to him that he could recognize the cause.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>There was a kid in between the big plantpots decorating each window of the mansion, pushing aside the stems and leaves to look inside the ballroom. His black hair braided with a red ribbon shining easily with the golden light coming from the party. He was young, his body still thin and scrawny, but Shiro was tiny like him too once, and in the last two years he had a growth spurt so surprising that his grandpa had to, reluctantly, pass the clothes he used to wear when he was Shiro’s age. They didn’t fit for more than two weeks, and his grandma was very amused by how his husband was sour and bitter at how Shiro was obviously taller and bigger than him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro tilted his head, noting the carefulness the kid managed himself with —his movements were deliberate, Shiro could even say they were calculated, and the sounds he caused with his existence were nothing compared to horrible noises the brats his age did. The barely-there slides he made with his steps and with which Shiro’s attention was caught were probably just clumsy trips.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, it was weirdly enough that the kid hadn’t seen Shiro standing near the stone rails, much more focused on what was happening in the ballroom. And when Shiro saw his head moving a bit with the sound of the melody, he felt his smile curve up in his mouth, affected.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“First dance?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was comical to watch the kid jump at Shiro’s voice, not unlike a frightened cat, and Shiro had to contain a laugh, his grin quirking up. He couldn’t see his expression, though, his bangs falling over his forehead shadowing it —surprisingly, though, his eyes were visible in the darkness, glowing slightly in an indigo similar to the night sky Shiro was used to— but the way he backed up a step and shrunk in his space made Shiro pause before approaching. It was obvious that he felt apprehension at Shiro. If it was for the sudden regard of Shiro’s existence or the sole fact that he was a stranger, Shiro didn’t know.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Shiro,” he introduced himself, bringing his right hand to the middle of his chest and making half a reverence, giving him a soft and steady smile, “What’s your name?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The kid narrowed his eyes, the shine of them going dark below his lashes, and he simply nodded in regard.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>This time Shiro had to pause for himself, surprised by the softness and at the same time roughness in the quality of his voice. Judging by it, Keith wasn’t a young kid as Shiro had thought first, but a teenager starting his puberty. Maybe 13 or 14, the change of his voice being noticeable by saying a single word.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith,” Shiro repeated, seeing him jump slightly despite it had been just a mere whisper meant for himself. Keith had an excellent hearing, “Nice to meet you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Keith just shrugged a shoulder, apparently uncomfortable with formalities.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro isn’t a very common name,” he pointed out, making Shiro raise his eyebrows near his hairline.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he breathed, taken aback, and nodded, his smile morphing from the one he showed to acquaintances to an authentic, lopsided grin curving his lips, “Actually, that’s how everybody calls me. My name is Takashi Shirogane.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He saw him frown slightly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Takashi isn’t that common, either,” he said again, shrugging it off, and Shiro couldn’t help a snort.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was true, obviously, because there were few oriental foreign people truly welcome in occidental lands. And Shiro’s family were the handful of them that had fought for a fortune and had succeeded, most of the unlucky ones being reduced to farmers and workers instead of seeing their true potential as landlords.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he started crossing his arms over his chest, just wanting to challenge him a bit, “Keith is pretty common.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was an overstatement, if Shiro was honest. There were more people called Keith than called Takashi in near lands and that Shiro knew about from formal meetings and from hearing their name in other person mouth. It was easier to find two Alistair in a small town than a Keith in three big ones, for example. But Shiro just wanted to defend his name, as immature as that was.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Keith tensed visibly and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>How he retorted, though, was unexpected.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it enough,” he justified, although that didn’t really matter with what they were discussing.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it, too,” Shiro confessed, too honest for his own taste, and watch him frisk, his eyes open in wonder at him, made Shiro’s inside sparkle, “It’s beautiful. It fits you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shifted, looking away, and Shiro felt like saying that last thing was too much. He was about to apologize and maybe run away before making a fool of himself even more when Keith huffed, part of his fringe blowing away from his face to look earnestly at Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like Takashi,” he murmured, almost bashful, and Shiro felt himself melt, “It’s... pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was strange. No one ever referred to his name like that and Shiro really thought he didn’t deserve it —the compliment was directed to things Shiro considered feminine, such as flowers, ribbons, glitters, colors, clouds and stars. And although Shiro enjoyed them in private, he didn’t consider himself that something related to him would be seen as pretty.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Shiro breathed, his lungs morphing it into a sigh, and felt his face heat up despite the fresh air, “Thanks...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Keith glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and Shiro asked himself if he could see his blush from the distance through the dark.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Keith said suddenly and Shiro tilted his head.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was obvious the confusion on his tone, but Keith didn’t clear it up immediately, staying silent for a few seconds and just looking away to the window behind him, the golden light outlining his features.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my first dance,” he murmured, frowning at what was happening inside, at the complicated steps existing to the sound of the melody that Shiro recognized were too difficult even for him and Allura despite how much time they practiced them, “Or something like that.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro didn’t want to ask him to elaborate about the last statement, knowing what he meant. It was very different assist to a dance as a child —playing in the mansion halls, hiding below the tablecloths and eating every single snack you could find— and as an adult, when you have to start with your contacts, meet potential romantic partners and maintain composure to guarantee your future.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro hated having grown up so quickly.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember my first dance,” Shiro started, looking up to the starless sky, and sighed heavily, “I stepped on my partner’s foot in the middle of the song and I received a kick in the shin. I could not walk without limping for three weeks.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He heard him snort, surprising Shiro and making him snap his attention back at him, finding him covering his mouth and nose with a fist. Shiro smiled, the way Keith stared at a bush beside Shiro causing sweetness on his chest.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Allura still complains to me that I dirtied one of her newest shoes.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The name of his cousin makes Keith look at him attentively so sudden Shiro felt his heart leap with a startle. And maybe something even deeper, recognizing how beautiful it felt to be watch by those eyes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Allura? Princess Allura?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nodded, smiling when remembering the time they used to have together. That changed when Allura turned 15 a year ago because she got engaged with the prince of another kingdom and she had the obligation to spend the Sundays with him, with the excuse for them to know each other better. And, despite the enthusiasm tangible in the words of every letter Allura sent to him, about how they had so much in common, about how their interests intertwined with the other’s and the time she had with him was very fun, she was still reluctant to actually marry him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he answered, looking back at the eyes with much many stars than the sky above them, “She’s my cousin.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s mouth fell open in an ‘o’, and Shiro couldn’t help thinking he looked adorable. He repressed the need to shake his head to scare away the thought because there was not a real problem with thinking it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro still felt a bit weird that he didn’t have any interest on women his age that tried to flirt with him or set up something more than a friendship, and he caught himself more than not looking at men instead of women. But he thought it was more because of the fact of growing up with Allura and not with boys his age during his childhood that he had that kind of interest in meeting more men than women. That didn’t explain why he got so nervous and stammered in front of any man that would smile at him, but he tried to not think about it too much.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, there was nothing wrong to think something adorable was adorable, right?</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh...” Keith sighed, low and quiet, his eyes glittering in something Shiro could describe as admiration.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling jealous that such an admiration was directed to Allura was weird, though, even when it was only natural.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She is not really as lovely as everyone believes,” Shiro pointed out, because, although most of the rumors people said in towns about how beautiful, skilled and respectful Allura was were true, he was aware that no one, besides his close family, has seen her truly angered. Especially Shiro, since he constantly got her into trouble.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Keith asked, this time him taking a step to Shiro, the excitement obvious in his eyes despite his stoic expression, “I’ve heard she’s very strong.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro raised a brow, taken aback, but nodded, feeling his smile tilt to a side. Yes, Allura was incredibly strong, to the point of being able to defeat in combat knights that doubled her age and had years of training below their belt. But no one, not a single farmer, peasant or bourgeois that had known her or about her would dare to say something like what Keith said.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Allura was painted to the public as most princess before her, or from other kingdoms, were —delicate, beautiful and brill in plastic, musical and literate arts. Allura stood out in them, too —Shiro couldn’t help but feel melancholy with the oil painting of juniberries she painted during the summer two years ago; he felt the need to close his eyes every time she played the piano; and the romanticism from her poems, towards life itself rather than love, filled his chest with a warmth no poet has ever accomplished before.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, her ability with the sword and the bow was with what she stands out in the castle. Her father was always overprotective with her, and her mother have learned every way to protect herself instead of depend on someone to save her —at the end, it helped in the way she ended up saving the, then, Prince Alfor when he was trying to save her from an apparent ambush. So, Allura, being the strong and determined she was as a kid, she always wanted to learn to be independent, so she started learning about combat modes when she started walking.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro wasn’t set to admit it, but before having his growth spurt thanks to puberty and before his muscles bulked up the way they did because of his daily activities, Allura kicked his ass. She still can, but Shiro is proud that it’s not as easy as it was when they were 10 years old.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“She is,” Shiro confirms solemnly, erasing his grin to get more credibility and seriousness at the moment to announce: “More when ire feeds her.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was fleeting, but Shiro could watch the small smile that escaped Keith, twisting on the sides and biting it from inside. His gaze diverts to somewhere to the dark, and Shiro feels too charmed by him.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span> It was weird, but he has never felt so drawn by someone he just met.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“If this is your first dance,” Shiro said just to avoid the thought to conquer his mind unnecessarily, and Keith looked back at him, “Why aren’t you inside?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugged, his eyes going to the plants beside him, and Shiro could swear he saw his hair bristle.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I... uh...”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off, apparently thinking on a way to explain what was happening, but Shiro didn’t have to guess so much when he saw his cheeks darken in red. He had to ignore the fact that if he could see his blush, then Keith could clearly see Shiro’s, too.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never danced?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Keith tensed, biting his lower lip, and shook his head, slumping his shoulders.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I...” he frowned, looking intently to the stone pot, “My family is not as fond to this kind of traditions. We have other beliefs of how these things should be managed.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro tilted his head, considering, but he has never heard that before. Most people did what other people did, so being told a family didn’t do as such was enough to prickle his curiosity.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“These things?” he asked, because asking about family beliefs and methods sounded to nosy.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Courting,” Keith murmured, looking away and through the glass, “Finding potential partners.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s gaze went to the window, the dark silhouettes on the gold light swaying with the music, and he wondered for a moment how different it could be. Of course, being in the ballroom, dancing with someone you like and want to know better, was very charming, almost lovely. But Shiro felt like that situation was sold to everyone —the fantasy of going to a party with your best clothes to fall helplessly in love with someone you’d dance with all night.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It obviously happened. But not to Shiro. He never felt completely comfortable under the gaze of so many people, waiting for him to choose someone to love.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It must be wonderful,” he finds himself murmuring, and Keith looks at him, his braid swinging over his shoulder and to his back with the movement.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at Shiro, as if searching for any hint that he might be lying. But Shiro isn’t. He’s genuinely charmed by the idea of not having to do what most people do, what most people expects you to do. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He wants something true. Something authentic. Something he can actually feel when he closes his eyes and his heart beats. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Something he prefers to feel in the dark. Under the stars. With whispers of love and laughs in secret.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It is.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s eyes drift to Keith’s, glittering as a sky full of stars, and his feet drags him a step further to him without thinking. And maybe that should make him uncomfortable, but Keith’s eyes just widen a bit more, wonder looking beautiful on his face.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>That’s why gathers the courage to ask what has been in the bottom of his mind ever since he saw Keith in the bushes.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“May I have this dance with you?”</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is part of the <a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject">LLF Comment Project</a> (including the <a href="https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder">LLF Comment Builder</a>), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:</p><ul>
<li>Short comments</li>
<li>Long comments</li>
<li>Questions</li>
<li>Constructive criticism</li>
<li>“&lt;3” as extra kudos</li>
<li>Reader-reader interaction</li>
</ul><p>This author replies to comments.</p><p>If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!</p><p>~</p><p>Come and yell with me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ulqueleh">Twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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